Catwoman
To the world, Selina Kyle is just another bit of trash, blowing down the streets of New York. Abandoned by an aloof mother and a drunken father, Selina has had to struggle and fight to get ahead in the world. Recently part of a traveling circus, she's returned to New York, the city of her birth, exercising her acrobatic skills across the Big Apple's magnificent skyline as the costumed thief, Catwoman. Background My parents never should have married. Honestly, it probably would have been better for the world if they'd never even met, but teenage hearts burn hot. My mother, Maria Hernandez, head cheerleader, with raven black hair and a killer body, fell in love with Brian Kyle, the quarterback. Oh, it was lust at first sight for both, to be sure. My father, even deep in the downward spiral of alcoholism that eventually consumed him, was always a handsome man. So when my mother got pregnant, my parents decided to 'do the right thing', lest her highly religious family spurn her forever. Ever notice how, when people try to do the 'right thing', they always end up making things even worse? The road to hell is paved with good intentions, after all. My mother, after high school, became a not so happy homemaker. Mostly because my father wanted her barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, just like his mother had always been. I wish I could say that I grew up knowing my parents loved me. Oh, they provided the state required care, made sure I went to school, did my homework. The one area my mother paid special attention to me? Gymnastics. So, like any affection starved child, I threw my heart into it. By ten, I could have competed on the national level and brought home at least a silver medal. Of course, by ten, my father would have pawned the medal for booze money. Not that I was alone, though. Something else my mother and I shared was a love of cats. Unfortunately, not all the cats loved me. Like most children, I didn't understand their aloof nature, that you had to let them come to you, rather than chasing after them. Maybe if my father'd learned that lesson, my mother would still be alive. Imagine how hard it'd be to find a parent dead. Now put that parent in the bathtub with a bottle of wine, an empty bottle of prescription medication and a great deal of blood. Now imagine you're ten. I found my mother as I've just said. Less than six months later, I found my father the exact same way. Is it any wonder I just... left? The door was open, the cats free to roam the night. Just like me. For almost a month and a half, I made it on my own, sifting through dumpsters for perfectly good food, pickpocketing to survive. But a stinky ten year old running wild in New York can only escape the notice of the police for so long, on their own.%rI got caught, and went down hard. Seagate correctional institution. They never found out my real name, but the guards, very quickly, gave me one of their own. Alley Cat, Cat for short. My head in the clouds, my feet almost never on the ground, I never really intended to be a trouble maker, but Seagate, much like adult facilities, was designed to crush the soul. I've never been fond of being crushed. When the guards got rough, so did I, fighting tooth and nail, like an alley cat. Many a guard got a faceful of sharp nails, or a foot to the face, when they decided I was 'sassing'. My first year was mostly solitary confinement, which was fine by me, except the confinement part. Not that it took long to figure out the lock on my door and windows with just a bit of wire and a hairpin. By my second night in solitary, I knew Seagate's rooftops as well as I knew the back of my own hand. Three years, I lived in seagate. Almost fourteen, I had snuck out of my locked room to get a midnight snack. The guards had decided starvation was the only way to mellow me out, and the bitch of a warden approved. Little did they know that I had free run of the facility every night. Something drew me to the Warden's quarters, that night. It was another of those nights that changed my life. The Warden, more butch than any of the male guards, draped in diamonds and gold, smirking as she talked to someone, bragging. Selling children and supplies meant to run the facility on the black market. Who'd miss a few stray brats and a couple hundred gallons of cleaning supplies? I was so engaged in spying that I didn't even notice the burly she-beast guard on duty behind me. The last thing I remember was a sharp blow to the head, and seeing stars... When I woke up? Inside a canvas sack, being swung around like a grocery bag... And then, cold. Gripping, ice cold water flooding the sack, swiftly flooding my lungs. The ocean near Seagate isn't the best place to go for a swim, even during the middle of summer. On a cold November night, it's positively unpleasant. Especially when you're wearing government issued, thread bare pajamas. Somehow, I clawed my way free of the sack and onto shore... And back into the Warden's private suite. I left her tied to a chair with her own belt, a scrap of the canvas sack in her mouth. I also left with a very large sum of cash and a gaudy amount of jewelry. And when I left, I left the doors open, just like with the cats. All the little orphans could go free. As long as they didn't follow me. The money didn't last that long. It's hard on the streets, even for a tough talking, wise cracking fourteen year old. I fell in with a rough crowd, Mama Fortuna and her gang of thieves. Mama Fortuna was little more than a common pimp, forcing children to steal for her, providing basic shelter in return for all their profits. I wish I could say that during this time, someone in my family was actually searching for me, still trying to find Maria and Brian's baby, but they wouldn't have recognized the wild eyed street thief even if they'd seen me. Smash and grabs, crass muggings, purse snatchings, we did it all. And Fortuna reaped the benefits. No one shed a tear when one of the older boys, fed up, dumped her in the Hudson. Unfortunately for her, she couldn't swim as well as me. At the tender age of seventeen, I ran away and joined the circus. What most kids dream of, I did. I swiftly went from cleaning muck to a respectable job as a ground acrobat in the big top, wearing a pair of cat ears and a spandex costume, doing an act with a 'lion tamer' and his whip. Several skinny teens were in on that act, including the twin Flannigans. Brent and his sister Sylvia were amazing, and taught me even more about moving than I'd learned at Seagate. Brent, a parkour practitioner, swiftly taught me his moves, seeking to win more than my admiration. His sister taught me how to fly. Oh, not literally, but swinging through the air on a trapeze, hanging suspended under the big top for those breathless moments with nothing but my wits between me and a long fall to death... It was breathtaking. And if Brent was equally breathtaking... I was young, and in love. Brent and I didn't last, but the triple act did. For three years, the Flying Flannigans toured the US, and no one was the wiser that I wasn't a Flannigan myself. Amazing what a little hair dye can do. While our love affair was brief, the tender feelings became a genuine friendship and long trusted partnership. That partnership came crashing to the ground when our convoy skidded on a patch of on a bridge outside New York. One of our big trucks lost control, sending two cars dangling off the bridge. While Vinny the strong man and the Bearded Lady used their combined weight and strength to balance one car, the Flying Flannigans and I rescued a mother and daughter from certain death. But we paid a high price. Sylvia and I, providing the trapeze, lost our grip on Brent in saving mother and daughter... And he fell to the rocks below... It was a miracle Brent survived. But he would never fly again. The circus didn't come to town that year. Christmas was spent in the hospital with Brent in critical condition, Sylvia and I on either side of his bed. The doctors spoke in hushed tones to the rest of our family, whispering words like 'nerve damage' and 'paralyzation'. One doctor spoke of clinical trials of a revolutionary new bit of technology developed by some medical company that could bridge the gap between damaged, or even severed, nerves with some sort of nano-thingy. In fact, she'd developed the device, and felt Brent would be a prime candidate. I didn't need to hear anything else. Donning my old dance costume, complete with a theatrical domino mask to obscure my features, I stole the nerve chip right out of its corporate, weapon manufacturing owners' hands and placed it into the hands of the doctor. Unwilling to ask where it came from, sitting there on her desk that morning, and knowing Brent as well as she'd come to, she did the right thing and immediately implanted it. I'm happy to say that Brent took his first steps in physical therapy, yesterday... right into the arms of his gorgeous angel-doctor. As for me... I'm flying solo, but I'm still flying. Something about that costume just felt right... In fact, I think I may go out now... MUX History Logs * Halt, Villain! - Two would-be heroes (Man-at-Arms and Keely Maher) happen by at the right hour to spot Catwoman breaking into a security goods store. They interfere. Category:Characters